Carrie Lederer and I served as co-jurors for Berkeley Art Center's 2010 Annual Exhibition on view from August 21 - September 26, 2010. Cool show - some great photography and painting. Check it! 1275 Walnut Street, Berkeley, CA 94709 www.berkeleyartcenter.org
Juried@BAC
"So Many Products, So Little Time" A group exhibition presenting meditations on the ultra-mundane products that surround us. Using junk mail as a road map, artists create homages to the detritus of the mail slot. Soap Gallery 3180 Mission Street, San Francisco, CA 94110 July 9 - July 30, 2010
Lauren Davies: "Elizabeth Arden Spa Collection and things in the picture that aren't actually for sale", cardboard and styrofoam model with ad.
"Lauren Davies: Looking After" Solo show, February 26 - March 26, 2010 ampersand international arts 1001 Tennessee St., San Francisco Thursday - Friday, Noon-5:00, or by appointment Contact Bruno Mauro at 415-285-0170 http://www.ampersandintlarts.com Click on image below for ArtBusiness.com images and comments.
"Siege" Curated by Lauren Davies at Kala Gallery March 18 - May 8, 2010 The proverbial expression "a man's home is his castle" is explored with photographs of suburban tract developments, whimsical 1930's castles, the contemporary ghost town, and stately homes under siege by the ravages of nature, time, neglect and decay. Featuring artists: Nell Dickerson, Eirik Johnson, Ali Richards, Alice Shaw, Luther Thie and Kathrine Worel. http://www.kala.org
Lauren Davies's recent exhibition,
titled "Dominion," consisted of eight three-dimensional works and a
pair of large, unframed digital prints on canvas replicating antique French
maps of Africa. Petting Zoo/Pongo (2005) and Ivory Products (2006), the two
largest works, are homemade display cases with contents that look as if they
are awaiting completion as natural-history museum dioramas by momentarily
absent makers. The objects within are of an enigmatic character, a quality enhanced
by their juxtaposition to each other; among them are grapefruit-sized stones
partially covered with spray-foam snow, animal tusks carved from bars of soap
and work gloves presented in a state of transformation into unconvincing
gorilla paws. There are also cryptic written annotations, some typographically
formal and others scrawled on notepaper in a way that suggests a secret
instruction to whoever might be tasked with finishing the tableaux.
Of course, in grand Duchampian fashion,
it was the viewer who was called upon to complete the story implied by this
reliquary display of semi-related clues. Complicating matters was the fact that
another six objects were placed around the gallery as if to suggest that the
whole exhibition should be read as a diorama--a much larger one containing both
the disquieting objects and the viewer. All seemed to await, and resist,
translation into a codified narrative. Like those inside the cases, the other
objects were presented as if they were unfinished. A toy-sized wood carving of
a giraffe, for example, titled Whittled Away (2006), was surrounded by
shavings, as if left over from its incomplete manufacture.
The digital prints, titled Dominion: Africa Maps
(2006), contributed to an interpretation of the exhibition. Presented in a
tattered condition, the classroom-style maps seemed the remnants of a vanished
geography of colonialism, conjuring the troubled sleep of a guilty history.
They recast the other objects as the components of a failed attempt to
rationalize the fantasy of what was once called the "Dark Continent."
What we are left with are residual fragments of the border zone between fact
and willful misrecognition, a frozen moment in the slow dissolution of a
childhood memory of something that never was.
Artist Profile: lauren davies
Art Ltd., September 2008
lauren davies
by dewitt cheng
The work of San Francisco artist Lauren Davies
harks back to her childhood visits to Pittsburgh's Carnegie Museums,
old-fashioned emporia of art, natural history, and science. She remembers "lots
of time spent sketching dioramas with camels and leaping tigers and that sort
of thing. My summertime activities involved making little scenes out of mud and
twigs inside of shoe boxes for the salamanders I would catch in the stream."
The mock dioramas that she makes now from unlikely household objects ("flleecy
acrylic blankets, bath mats and used carpeting...mixed with hardware store
supplies, sheet rubber and spray foam insulation"), fake or unfinished, and
hilariously not of traditional museum quality, build on nostalgia for those
musty specimen cases. In doing so, they also add a postmodern frankness
about -and delight in - artifice. In 2007, Davies traveled to southern
Newfoundland in a vain search of sublimity: Twillingate was a traditional
fine vantage point for viewing newly calved icebergs as they drifted off from
their mother ice shelf, but the migratory spectacle, perhaps due to global
warming, was disappointing. Wandering into the town's museum, the artist found
a polar bear cub, badly stuffed, displayed amid local crafts and manufactures.
Alive, it had swum landward from a shrinking ice floe and been confusedly shot:
dead, it lives on, a monument to small-town "sad earnestness." Davies' show
this spring at San Francisco's Gallery 16, "When Hell Freezes Over," examined
that cultural transformation by presenting an eyeless, fur-coated bear
surrounded by yellow-stained snowballs of dubious purity. A previous series,
Dominion, shown at Ampersand Arts, also in San Francisco, examined the same
cultural process, but in this case using Africa as seen by French colonials.
Provoked by a mildewed antique classroom map replete with the names and
boundaries of vanished countries, Davies fabricated pseudo-dioramas containing
quilted birds, gorilla hands made from pigskin gloves and impaled on sticks,
and elephant tusks fabricated from Ivory soap bars. On the floor sat her
replica of a chimpanzee "enrichment device",a zookeeper-constructed artificial
termite mound full of retrievable food, designed to keep our nearest relatives
busy. Davies' is a double simulacrum: a fake fake (like Zhan Wang's metal
boulders) designed for our enrichment. One could of course construe most human
culture, including art, as full of shoddy contrivance, but Davies views culture
complexly. Like many serious artists, she's aware of the ultimate absurdity of
her own enterprise, yet committed to it. Like late-Victorian explorers who
mapped the unknown corners of the world, bringing back trunk loads of fauna and
flora, she is an indefatigable seeker. She has said, "I love researching
things - going down endless topical rabbit-holes that lead to more strange
stories with accompanying pictures. Collecting old books, digging up oddball
images to help formulate ideas for the installations ... constantly scouting for new
materials or alternate uses for old materials. Nothing is too lowly or
obscure..." Unlike such bygone hunter-gatherers as Frank Buck and Teddy
Roosevelt, however, Davie's aim is not to "bring 'em back alive" or skinned and
taxidermy-ready, but to explore the intellectual impulse to "master" reality by
modeling it. She invests her jerry-rigged animal pastiches with an emotion
generally alien to postmodernism - pathos -and this pathos extends not only to
the traditional stuffed animal subjects, but also to their makers, with their
physical and cultural limitations. "Everything is equivalent," as Davies
declares, if we can see without prejudice. Her work rejects the ironic air of
detached superiority that infects so much late-capitalist culture, and declares
the roles of prey, hunter and taxidermist merely notional and contingent, as if
the Creator, hairless and bipedal, had suddenly remembered something and left
in a hurry. "Dirtball," 2006 Mixed media model of a dirtball
covered with snow on a digitally printed map on Colonial Africa
Lauren Davies' show, "When Hell Freezes
Over" was on view at Gallery 16 in San Francisco, from April 11 - May 31. Her
new series, "The Breeders" draws on her experience as a junior handler in dog
competitions. These replicas of various canine species, all made to scale with
the appropriate dog fur, will be shown as part of a three person show at the
Richard L. Nelson Gallery and the University of California, Davis, September
25 - December 7, 2008. She is also working on "The Butterfly and the Tsunami,"
one of a number of Cool Globes scheduled for exhibit in San Francisco; Davies' globe, riffing on the Ray Bradbury time-travel story, employs images from the
California Academy of Sciences Department of Entomolgy and will be shown at the
September 27 opening of the new building in Golden Gate Park.
Cheng,
DeWitt, "Artist Profile: Lauren Davies", Art Ltd., September 2008
Imagine "cute" as a place. It would be populated by kittens and
puppies that never age, bunnies that hide brightly colored eggs, and impossibly
chubby cheeked infants who never soil their diapers or cry all night long. Such
a world, soft and full of happy endings, is a refuge from the one we live in,
where accidents occur, bad guys often win and forgiveness is rare. Our
collective desire for this fantasy world manifests itself in our popular
culture and even in our relationships with our pets. Dogs starring in movies,
uncomfortable pet costumes, kitten calendars -- too often our domesticated
animals become victims in our pursuit of "cute."
Lauren Davies's dog sculptures are not cute. On display at the Nelson
Gallery at the University of California, Davis, through December 7, 2008,
Davies's sculptures take anthropomorphism to an absurd extreme. Made of shed
dog fur collected from pet groomers, the small models (they range from 7-by-8
to 17-by-14 inches) are closer to taxidermy than the stuffed animals that crowd
toy store shelves.
Davies does not craft generic dogs, or even mutts, but specific,
built-to-scale breeds -- the Maltese, the Australian Shepherd, the West
Highland White Terrier, the Shetland Sheepdog. Fur is carefully arranged into
appropriate color patterns -- Davies's Australian Shepherd has the
characteristic brown coat with black patches. Her Old English Sheepdog's fur is
realistically matted and curled. The sleeping Cocker Spaniel is a dormant
puddle of curled auburn fur. I wanted to ignore the sign and touch the dogs.
Would I feel a warm, breathing belly underneath that familiar fur? I snuck a
quick pinch, a brush of a leg, and it was cold.
As animated as Davies's creations are, they haunt more than they charm.
Lacking eyes, noses, and mouths, they are faceless reproductions filled not
with organs but with fur. Significantly, Davies builds the animals from the
undesirable part of the dog. Shedding is the seedy underbelly of dog ownership.
Shed fur snowballs beneath beds and in corners, upsetting clean houseguests; it
coats black clothing and car seats, deterring passengers. Unlike rabbit fur, it
is not spun into wool or knit into sweaters. It is thrown away.
Davies uses dog waste to create ghosts, models too real to be cute. In
doing so, she mocks our culture's desire to turn pets into malleable stuffed
animals with human needs and characteristics. Her sculptures both tempt and
thwart our impulse to view pets as cuter versions of ourselves. It is a human
impulse, this desire for another version of our world. For in the land of
"cute," death and dust bunnies have no home.
Lauren Davies's Dog Models is included in the exhibition Aggregate: Three
One-Person Shows, which also includes work by artists Laura Breitman and Camille Utterback.
The exhibition is on display at the Richard L. Nelson Gallery, located in Room
124, the Art Building, at UC Davis, through December 7, 2008.
When Bay Area artist Lauren Davies got her globe - that is her Cool Globe - it was two weeks late and bigger than she had imagined. It was also, um, spherical, which poses significant challenges in attaching images. "It'shard to tell how long this is going to take," she said eyeing her globe in early June. One large, remarkably detailed butterfly was adhered to it, as many other butterfly cutouts lay nearby. Her workstation, in a friend's Mission District warehouse, was piled with glossy printed images, with more on her computer screen. Davies who shows widely throughout the Bay Area, was brought into the project by the California Academy of Sciences. Her globe titled "The Butterfly and the Tsunami" takes the "butterfly effect" as its theme - the idea, embedded in chaos theory, that one small change (a butterfly flapping its wings) can initiate huge events (a tsunami or tornado). One side of Davies' globe will have butterflies; the other, tsunamis. "I wanted to have it be a bit abstract," Davies said. "It's taking off on the interconnectedness of everything ... not super scientific or literal." Davies was required to use the Academy's resources in her globe, which she says was a "joy." She used digital images from the Academy's collection, along with those of a butterfly specialist in Seattle. the swirling weather patterns on the other half of the globe are from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
San Francisco Chronicle, April 24, 2008
Faux taxidermy; 'When Hell Freezes Over': Crafty exhibition
inspired by 'sad earnestness' of small museum.
Byline:
Reyhan Harmanci
Artist
Lauren Davies went to Newfoundland two years ago looking for an iceberg. She
came back with a polar bear.
Well,
that's not entirely accurate. She came back with a project idea about a polar
bear, which has grown into her latest solo show, "When Hell Freezes
Over."
"I was working on a
project on icebergs and I went looking for images. I found this National
Geographic calendar that had an iceberg of the month," Davies says.
"Apparently, on the southern shore of Newfoundland, you could see icebergs
breaking off. I thought I had to go there."
Unfortunately,
because of climate change, the icebergs had melted before they reached
Twillingate, where Davies was staying. "The guy on the ice boat told us
that since we were here, we should check out the museum at the top of the hill.
We went up to the little museum and there was a taxidermied polar bear who had
been shot and killed about two years prior to that.
"They
created this whole museum around this one sad polar bear."
The
museum was a mess - next to the polar bear were homemade homages to the
icebergs that had put the town on the map, and then just random stuff - jam for
sale, infant clothing, thrift-store paintings.
Davies
was inspired. She went home and constructed a model of sorts of the museum,
with a fake stuffed polar bear, sugar cube icebergs and two digitalized
pictures. The result is funny and touching: Davies walks a fine line between
parody and celebration.
Davies,
who grew up in Pittsburgh, Pa., and got her master's from the San Francisco Art
Institute, says she has always loved natural history museums. A turning point
in her work came 10 years ago when she stumbled upon a natural history correspondence
course and home taxidermy kit. "It was ridiculous artifice," she
says. "It showed you how to make a diorama, like through step A, step B
and so on. It was like conceptual art from the '70s."
Natural
history has bled into much of Davies' work, which has centered on the
boundaries of animal and human life. She says that she finds the craftiness of
natural history museums to be very touching. "The thing I took from the
Newfoundland museum was that everything is equivalent," she says, "the
Styrofoam ice floe is equivalent to the jelly and jam next to it. There's
something about this sad earnestness. The museum put this display together with
this sad thing made of broken-up bits of Styrofoam, and there was no effort to
make it look any more realistic. I love that."
Through
May 31. Gallery 16, 501 Third St., S.F. (415) 626-7495. www.gallery16.com.
When Hell Freezes Over: Lauren Davies by Zachary Scholz
GALLERY 16 Ever since I saw that animated polar bear slip off that bit of melting iceberg to its watery doom in the movie An Inconvenient Truth icebergs and polar bears seem to be everywhere. It is therefore not so strange that Lauren Davis solo show, When Hell Freezes Over, at Gallery 16 contains both bears and bergs. What is however strange, and wonderful, is the deft way that Davies weaves these topically pertinent subjects into a quirky and complex tapestry inflected with humor, sadness, and nostalgia for small town charm. Click on the image above to link to complete review on Shotgun.